


Bucket List

by boonies



Category: Dong Bang Shin Ki, JYJ - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boonies/pseuds/boonies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex is definitely on the list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucket List

*

 

"Do you top?"

 

Jaejoong yawns, stretching. "What?"

 

Yoochun's resting on the studio floor, nonchalantly staring at trays they stole from the cafeteria. "Do you top?"

 

"Top what?" Jaejoong blinks.

 

Yoochun's face is perfectly neutral but his ears are so red Jaejoong freezes.

 

"Sex," Yoochun says.

 

Jaejoong opens his mouth but his brain's kind of in the process of uninstalling language software.

 

"I made a bucket list after I left the hospital last week," Yoochun elaborates, casually inspecting his nails and leaning on one scrawny knee with practiced ease.

 

Jaejoong tries to say _what_ but it comes out as the smallest of dinosaur noises.

 

"I decided I want to try everything once," Yoochun adds, giving a suspiciously devout nod and poking a tray with his foot.

 

Jaejoong gapes for a small eternity.

 

"I can't have sex with you," he says and his body just about shuts down in protest.

 

"Why not."

 

"Because," Jaejoong starts. "That's... not on _my_ bucket list?"

 

Yoochun looks strangely offended.

 

"Do you even _have_ a bucket list?" he demands, narrowing his eyes.

 

"No," Jaejoong admits, "but—"

 

"Fine," Yoochun shrugs, rising. He kicks one of the trays out of the way. It slides across the studio with a loud clatter. "I'll go ask someone else."

 

Over Jaejoong's dead body.

 

"Wait," he says, licking his lips and pawing at the air. "Wait. Hold on. Who are you... who will you ask? What if they tell—"

 

"That's why I asked _you_ ," Yoochun murmurs, staring at the floor. "I trust _you_."

 

Oh.

 

But still.

 

No.

 

Jaejoong has to refuse.

 

Sex is a good thing, a great thing, a thing Jaejoong's very enthusiastic about, but not with Yoochun.

 

Not ever.

 

"Alright," he says, somehow, weirdly, unexpectedly. "Sex. Okay. Let's... have some, I guess?"

 

Yoochun's lips part in shock.

 

"So... then," Jaejoong continues awkwardly, scratching at his arm and staring at all the invisible spots on the floor. "When do you... need this by?"

 

That sounds as though they're talking about mailing a certified letter, so Jaejoong adds, "I mean, when do you wanna... cross it off your bucket list? Next year? After army? 2032?"

 

"Now," Yoochun says, quickly stripping off his hoodie.

 

Shit.

 

Jaejoong rises, shielding his eyes.

 

Of course, he catches Yoochun's reflection in the long stretch of mirrors anyway. And of course, Yoochun's back muscles are tensing under his favorite undershirt. His hair is a disaster, gathered up in a long messy ponytail. The skin around his collarbones is beaded with sweat. His face is flushed. Eyes hooded.

 

Fuck.

 

"Isn't there... something else on the list I can help you out with?" Jaejoong asks valiantly, mouth super dry.

 

Yoochun pauses, undershirt stuck around his neck. "I wanna buy a monkey..."

 

"That's illegal."

 

Yoochun pulls the shirt off. "Then just the sex."

 

Jaejoong's still trying not to look, but.

 

He's running a fever. His everything is on fire. There's a sudden, ruthless, long-repressed burn of desire and it's punching through any remaining common sense with such force that Jaejoong has to lean against the nearest wall.

 

"What's your definition of sex," he whispers because his fucking brain checked out two minutes ago and his body just wants, wants Yoochun, wants him so bad it's gonna die if it doesn't get him.

 

Yoochun pauses, dumbstruck. Looking uncomfortable, he tosses his undershirt to the floor, then makes a vulgar gesture with his hands, eyes trained on the ground.

 

Jaejoong's hard in a fraction of a second.

 

"We don't have anything—" he says helplessly, looking around.

 

"Spit?"

 

Jaejoong wants to die.

 

"...that's really gross," he says, voice a cracked raspy mess, "and ineffective—"

 

Yoochun looks like he's going to burn a hole in the floor and burrow to whatever country is on the opposite side. "We could go buy some... stuff."

 

Jaejoong can picture the headlines already.

 

_Popular boyband members caught buying lube; insist it was for unnamed friend._

 

"Our room," he says instead and it sounds more like an order than a friendly suggestion.

 

Recklessly, Yoochun pulls just his hoodie back on, grabs their things, and stuffs everything into a duffel bag.

 

Jaejoong goes nowhere near him for fear of combustion.

 

*

 

They don't talk on the way up.

 

And then they don't talk in the hallway, or the dorm, or their bedroom, and Yoochun undresses and Jaejoong sort of runs away to grab a shower.

 

It's the worst shower in the history of civilized showers.

 

Every brush of his soapy fingers, every stroke of the loofah, every drop of water threatens to send him over the edge and that seriously can't happen with Yoochun just down the hall, waiting in their room, ready to experiment.

 

So Jaejoong runs the water on the arctic setting and finds the coarsest towel they own and wraps that around himself and tries not to fly back to their bedroom.

 

He streaks past Junsu and Changmin and attempts to look normal but his bare feet are leaving wet marks everywhere and he probably looks like a wild animal or a lunatic or—

 

"...let's not ask," Junsu says, turning back to the TV.

 

Traumatized, Changmin fixes his eyes on the remote. "I never do."

 

Jaejoong erases them from view by skidding around the corner and almost crashing through the wall.

 

Taut with tension and arousal and a billion beautiful terrible things, he pushes the door to his room open.

 

Yoochun's sprawled on his bed.

 

Asleep.

 

It takes a moment for Jaejoong's body to process this and instead of resentment and disappointment, there's a strong, relieved tug at his heart.

 

Smiling lopsidedly, he sheds his towel and puts on pajama pants and slips under the covers next to Yoochun.

 

He closes his eyes with a shaky breath.

 

Well.

 

Crisis averted.

 

*

 

A hard cock wakes him up.

 

It's just sort of there, snuggled against his butt.

 

"You awake?" Yoochun murmurs into his neck.

 

It's pitch black in the room.

 

Jaejoong doesn't move, doesn't say a thing, wills his body to cooperate.

 

He keeps his breathing as even as he can.

 

" _Hyung,_ are you."

 

Jaejoong's body doesn't cooperate.

 

It listens to Yoochun more than Jaejoong.

 

Yoochun laughs softly, sliding an arm over Jaejoong to press himself closer. "So what position do you like better."

 

Jaejoong doesn't even know. Both? Both would be great albeit physically impossible, probably.

 

But he just... wants Yoochun everywhere.

 

" _Everything_ 's on the list," Yoochun says quietly, resting his chin on Jaejoong's shoulder, one hand tugging at Jaejoong's pajama bottoms.

 

Jaejoong curls in on himself. "Whichever one you want first."

 

Yoochun startles a little, pulling away.

 

So Jaejoong stretches his legs out and arches his back, forcing Yoochun to press closer.

 

"We can play for it," Yoochun says.

 

There's a stupid mix of affection and desire pooling in Jaejoong's gut so he says, "It's too dark to see who wins—"

 

"Gawi bawi bo," Yoochun says, totally ignoring him.

 

Automatically, Jaejoong throws a jji over his shoulder, his fingers scissoring the air, his face buried in the pillow in embarrassment.

 

"Who won?" he asks, chuckling, because this is probably the stupidest version they've ever played.

 

The laughter dies in his throat.

 

Because Yoochun's mouth is wrapping around Jaejoong's outstretched fingers. His tongue drags up slowly, over Jaejoong's knuckles, lapping at the flat parts and sucking on the tips, and Jaejoong can only do one thing.

 

Mindlessly, he turns over, grabbing whatever part of Yoochun he can, and straddles him.

 

"No, I want," Yoochun starts, struggling around something. "I want the whole thing. I won."

 

Jaejoong pauses.

 

He still has no idea what winning means, but this is his territory. This is what he's good at. He's good at making Yoochun happy.

 

So he scoots backwards in the dark, precariously balancing himself. He moves just enough to bend lower and kiss his way up Yoochun's inner thighs, first the left, then the right. He peppers Yoochun's bare skin with kisses and licks, spreads his legs open slowly, noses at an unruly nest of curls, commits the scent to memory.

 

"Is it too late to go buy a monkey," Yoochun says with a voice Jaejoong only hears during rehearsals.

 

It's definitely too late, yeah.

 

So Jaejoong nudges at Yoochun's stomach, mouth drawn to the cock resting there, but if he's going to be the first to do this, then he's going to do it right—

 

"I've had sex before," Yoochun says, curling his fingers in Jaejoong's hair.

 

Jaejoong pauses.

 

He's a little bummed out by this. Maybe his pulse is spiking a bit. Maybe he wants to kick things.

 

"But not with a guy," he says with purpose and shakes Yoochun's fingers off then stretches across the bed to blindly grope for a small pretty jar hidden in the nightstand. Jaejoong replaced its contents with less idol-appropriate stuff the last time their manager raided the dorms and hasn't even had a chance to use it—

 

" _Hurry up_ ," Yoochun groans impatiently, scratching at Jaejoong's arm.

 

"Why are you always bossing me around," Jaejoong murmurs, unscrewing the cap.

 

"Because you like it," Yoochun grins somewhere underneath him.

 

Partially mortified but mostly turned on, Jaejoong wastes no time. He struggles out of his pajama pants and scoops out a good amount of lube and slicks himself up. It sounds so indecent in the dark, punctuated by Yoochun's heavy breathing, that Jaejoong feels ready to just skip everything, skip prep and foreplay and just sink into Yoochun.

 

"Just fucking do it," Yoochun grumbles, smacking at the air. One of his hands lands on Jaejoong's shoulder, then slides to his bicep.

 

Jaejoong uses it as a guide. He falls back between Yoochun's legs and skims his slippery hand down one skinny thigh.

 

"Turn around," he says and has no idea why.

 

He can feel Yoochun tense. But slowly, he relaxes his grip on Jaejoong's arm and turns around with a great big annoyed huff.

 

"This is taking way longer than I—" Yoochun starts with a whine, wriggling.

 

Jaejoong spreads him open.

 

"—oh, Jesus."

 

Validated, Jaejoong runs a trembling finger down Yoochun's ass. It's so dark he has to guess but he knows Yoochun's body. He knows where every curve and slope and dip is.

 

He knows _Yoochun_.

 

He presses the pads of his thumbs close, experimentally.

 

" _Before_ I die of old age," Yoochun says in this obnoxious, demanding way, so Jaejoong pushes a finger in, knuckle-deep. Yoochun clamps down in a way that makes Jaejoong weak with lust.

 

"Lift up your butt," he says, chest constricting painfully.

 

"Did you just say _butt_ ," Yoochun laughs but it's strained and heavy with desire and then he's arching his ass up and Jaejoong can feel the firm curve of it, the smooth skin cupped beneath his palms.

 

His eyes are trying to focus on something but there's only darkness, so he adds another finger and silently apologizes because that's it.

 

That's the limit.

 

"I," Yoochun says into the pillow, scorching hot around Jaejoong's fingers, "have a really high pain threshold."

 

Jaejoong removes his fingers and bites his lip and guides his cock closer. He grips himself tighter, trying to gain some semblance of control, but Yoochun squirms, pushes back, and then the tip of Jaejoong's cock is trying to nudge in.

 

" _Come on_ ," Yoochun breathes and Jaejoong can't really comprehend the situation.

 

His body can.

 

He pushes past the tight ring of muscle with effort, knees burning against the sheets.

 

Yoochun gasps, tensing.

 

Briefly, Jaejoong considers reaching for more lube but he can't remember where he left it and he can't see anything, can only feel and hear and smell Yoochun, so his knees give up and he slumps over Yoochun's back with a stupid needy groan.

 

Yoochun seems to buckle underneath him and they collapse into the mattress.

 

Jaejoong gives a slow, shallow thrust.

 

"Fuck," Yoochun groans, bunching up the sheets, the pillow, the messy covers.

 

So Jaejoong repeats the move, same angle only deeper, harder, and bites down softly on Yoochun's shoulder because he can't _not_.

 

"Oh my god," Yoochun says in English and bucks up, sliding a hand down to the sheets, to his cock.

 

Mindlessly, Jaejoong sheathes himself, then pulls out, then presses back in, repeats the strokes a million times like a well-rehearsed dance, one hand following Yoochun's. It's an awkward, painful angle on his shoulder, but there's already an orgasm coiling low in his gut, tightening and tugging and twisting.

 

"Chun-ah," he whispers breathlessly, pace frantic. "Do you want," he starts, barely coherent, stroking along with Yoochun's hand and burying himself in tandem, "want," his cock swells, "in you—"

 

Yoochun's shaking and slippery and so hot that when he says, "In me, hyung," Jaejoong ruts wildly, spilling inside Yoochun with a series of gaspy ahs.

 

Yoochun comes hard a moment later, clenching and tightening everywhere, his come a hot sticky mess inside Jaejoong's palm.

 

Boneless, Jaejoong slumps to the side and pulls out with a wince.

 

In response, Yoochun digs his nails wherever he can reach, panting into the pillow.

 

His fingers are still clutching Jaejoong's hair a few minutes later when he says, sounding spent and amazed, "Ow."

 

Jaejoong bursts into soft laughter, burrowing into Yoochun's disheveled ponytail. It smells like sweat and gel and sex, and Jaejoong's eyes sting. "Sorry."

 

Yoochun's quiet for a moment, then his fingers finally uncurl, and he asks, "Ready for the next thing on my list?"

 

Jaejoong's too exhausted to move but his cock twitches, interest clearly piqued.

 

"Is sleeping next," he tries.

 

"No." Yoochun sits up with a tiny pained groan. "Fucking you is."

 

Stupid fucking body, liking stupid fucking Yoochun this much.

 

"Tomorrow," Jaejoong waves him off.

 

"I could get hit by a bus tomorrow," Yoochun says, shifting.

 

The mattress dips.

 

Jaejoong grins into the sheets. "Unless there's a new bus route that goes through the 11th floor of the SBS building—"

 

"I guess it doesn't have to be you," Yoochun muses and there's a rustling sound indicating that he's left the bed and is getting dressed and no, nope, fuck that.

 

"I kinda hope you get hit by an actual bus," Jaejoong grumbles but rises, snatching a sheet and wrapping it around his waist.

 

Yoochun snorts somewhere by the door. "Shower."

 

Jaejoong knows it's an invite and he really does need another shower but. Lights. There are lights in the bathroom. And there's just... no flattering angle in bright fluorescent dorm lights and Yoochun can't see him like that.

 

Yoochun thinks he's perfect.

 

"Don't be such a narcissist," Yoochun says and cracks the door open. Light streams in and Jaejoong catches the sated, smug smile on Yoochun's face.

 

"You go first," he says carefully, hopping over to the nightstand to grab underwear and calm down.

 

"Come after me in one minute," Yoochun throws over his shoulder and strolls off casually, boxers hanging low.

 

Jaejoong pulls on a pair of his? Yoochun's? underwear, stares at the alarm clock for exactly sixty seconds, then peels out of the room.

 

"You can't go in there," Junsu yells helpfully from the living room, "Yoochun's still using the—"

 

Looking depressed, Changmin places a hand on Junsu's shoulder and shakes his head.

 

Junsu blinks, realization dawning.

 

Jaejoong stomps around the corner, ignoring them.

 

He's not even in the mood anymore so why the hell did he follow. He's actually even kind of really pissed off, because, come on, he's definitely being used and he's not cool with—

 

A hand shoots out of the bathroom and quickly pulls him inside.

 

"I feel like our concepts of time are really different," Yoochun complains, pressing him into the door.

 

Yep.

 

The lights sure are bright.

 

So bright that Jaejoong can see, in HD, Yoochun's hair falling around his face in soft waves. There's still some eyeliner smudged under his eyes. And he's pretty much naked. And all of those things make Jaejoong feel indescribably stupid.

 

It's not on the list, probably, but Jaejoong can't help it.

 

He leans forward and kisses Yoochun.

 

Startled, Yoochun parts his lips, so Jaejoong darts a lick.

 

Okay, yeah, this time, this time, there will be foreplay and everything.

 

Yoochun relaxes into him for a moment, then tenses and slams him into the door with a muffled grunt.

 

"Shower... shower," Jaejoong reminds, flailing.

 

Yoochun glances at the shower briefly, seemingly contemplating the distance, then lets out a little growl and hauls Jaejoong into the stall.

 

"Start the water," Yoochun says, "so they won't hear us."

 

Jaejoong hardens instantly.

 

With shaking hands, he searches behind and turns the tap. The pipes come to life, muffling some of the noise Jaejoong seems unable to stop making.

 

Water hits his neck first, spilling onto his bare shoulders, cold as fuck.

 

He opens his mouth to protest, but Yoochun kisses him.

 

"Is getting caught on the list, too?" Jaejoong murmurs, leaning into the tiles, freezing his ass off.

 

"It is _now_ ," Yoochun says, dipping his fingers into the waistband of Jaejoong's underwear. "Are these mine?"

 

Jaejoong looks down at Yoochun's boxers. "Those are mine."

 

Yoochun buries his face in Jaejoong's shoulder, lips curling against his skin. "Did you bring the... thing?"

 

Shit.

 

Desperately, Jaejoong looks around the shower but there's nothing useful. Briefly, he contemplates conditioner and body wash and, fuck, why not, spit, but then he says, "My pain threshold is really low."

 

The water is running scalding hot now and Yoochun's hair is a wet mess but he's grinning beautifully. "I know."

 

Desire slams through Jaejoong. "Your list is starting to sound kinda sadistic."

 

Yoochun kisses him.

 

It's a surprisingly perfect combination of soft and wet and insistent and Jaejoong's ready for whatever kind of pain, physical or otherwise, is in store.

 

But Yoochun's hands are so gentle. They're tangling in Jaejoong's hair, then cupping his jaw, then dripping water in a curved line down his stomach.

 

So Jaejoong wraps his arms around Yoochun, slides his fingers down, over the small of his back, over his skinny ass, under the boxers, palming each cheek with a frustrated, starved twitch. The backs of Yoochun's thighs are still sticky and Jaejoong burns with a billion different emotions when he realizes why.

 

It's the dirtiest thing in the cleanest place and Jaejoong moans so loudly it seems to reverberate through Yoochun, too.

 

"Back to the room," Yoochun mouths into his skin, haphazardly grabbing a bottle of shampoo and lathering whatever he can reach, undressing them both.

 

He flicks the wet boxers and briefs to the floor and rises on his tiptoes to adjust the spray.

 

Jaejoong helps the best that he can but his cock is pulsing so hard he worries it might be broken. He needs something, hands, lips, something, but Yoochun abruptly stops and stretches out a hand to reach for a towel.

 

They hop out together, still drenched and foamy and squinting through the steam, and then it's just a matter of ninjaing their way back to their room, wearing nothing but a small shared towel.

 

Junsu and Changmin are staring intently at the TV when they jog past them.

 

"Turn up the volume," Changmin says, gaze fixed straight, voice strained.

 

"On it," Junsu replies, frantically punching remote control buttons.

 

Jaejoong grins, casting an amused glance at Yoochun, but Yoochun's face is flushed and serious and Jaejoong's smile fades instantly, replaced by a stupid needy moan.

 

Yoochun tugs him into the bedroom with a halfhearted shush and turns on the lights.

 

They topple to his bed because Jaejoong's bed is a certified disaster and Jaejoong says, "We're gonna run out of surfaces."

 

"Floor is good, too," Yoochun mutters, scanning the room for lube.

 

He extricates himself quickly, zaps across the room, grabs the jar, and comes back so fast Jaejoong's eyes hurt.

 

He does everything so perfectly Jaejoong starts to feel suspicious, but by the time he even thinks to question anything, there are three long fingers stretching him gently and every last particle in his body has surrendered completely.

 

"Good enough?" Yoochun asks huskily.

 

Jaejoong can only nod, all four limbs wrapped around Yoochun, head buried in the crook of his neck.

 

Yoochun doesn't hesitate at all. He sheathes himself to the hilt like he'll never move again but then he does, inching out with such a slow pace Jaejoong gives a frustrated little growl and sneaks both hands between their bodies.

 

There's pain but his body is adjusting around Yoochun with such speed that Jaejoong feels dizzy. He's still thrumming with remnants of his first orgasm, and every stroke scratches at a burning, endless itch. It's too much, from the way he accommodates Yoochun's cock, to the slow stretch of muscles and the bright, heady spark of pleasure scattering through all of his nerves, and Jaejoong reaches for his cock, desperate.

 

Yoochun bats his hands away with a roll of his hips.

 

Anchored at the groin, he wraps his fingers around Jaejoong's wrists and brings his arms above his head and out of the way.

 

"Let me," he says.

 

Jaejoong digs the heels of his feet into Yoochun's ass, urging him in deeper, faster. His cock rubs against Yoochun's stomach on every stroke, slick with precome and lube and Jaejoong feels so full, so feverish, so greedy and needy and dumb he forgets himself and says, "You're perfect."

 

Yoochun stills.

 

His shoulders shake a little, elbows threatening to give out.

 

And then there's a puff of air against Jaejoong's jaw and Yoochun is pounding into him hard, fast, at just the right angle, with so much force Jaejoong's vision blurs.

 

He shuts his eyes tight and opens his mouth, but his breath keeps catching in silent wonder, toes curling.

 

The bed shakes with every thrust, headboard scraping against the wall, but Jaejoong doesn't care. He doesn't care that this is some perfunctory experiment and that just any guy would do and that Yoochun will roll right over this the way he rolls over everything else.

 

"You're so perfect," he repeats because why the fuck not.

 

Slick and warm, Yoochun's fingers wrap around Jaejoong's cock and tug and then Jaejoong is coming, slow and sustained, a curling, shattering sort of pleasure spreading through him.

 

*

 

"Dinner started six minutes ago," Yunho lectures, giving them a disapproving glare.

 

Jaejoong slinks into the kitchen, Yoochun in tow.

 

Their hair is still wet but they both look relatively... presentable.

 

Except for the part where Changmin and Junsu can't meet their eyes.

 

With a wince, Jaejoong takes his seat. He's sore and sleepy and a little cranky, so he forces out a pleasant, "Who made dinner?"

 

"Golden China Palace," Yunho shrugs, scattering a bunch of mismatched chopsticks on the table.

 

Yoochun sits down next to Jaejoong, grimacing a little.

 

That, at least, Jaejoong can feel smug about.

 

"First order of business," Yunho starts, unceremoniously digging into the food.

 

"Ugh, just let us eat," Changmin whines.

 

Junsu stuffs his face.

 

Jaejoong feels pretty normal all of a sudden.

 

Sure, he just had sex with his roommate, his soulmate, a straight guy, and it's never gonna happen again, but that's normal.

 

That's fine.

 

"First order of business," Yunho repeats with authority. "New haircuts tomorrow. The concept is—"

 

Shrieking internally, Jaejoong glances at the messy wet half-bun, half-ponytail, half-unicorn tail on Yoochun's head and almost reaches out to run his fingers through it.

 

...which isn't normal.

 

"Second order of business," Yunho says even though Junsu's mouth is full and Changmin's already putting in his earbuds, "I found someone's shopping list?"

 

Jaejoong snaps his head around to stare.

 

Yunho's holding up a yellow post-it note. "What's a bucket list? Are we out of buckets? What do we need buckets for?"

 

Yoochun blanches.

 

Jaejoong's ears are hot. And he's insanely curious to see what else is on the list. It's none of his business, but.

 

With a frown, Yunho glances at the note. "It's not much of a list," he says, confused. "It's only—"

 

Yoochun dives across the table like a crazy person, trying to grab the tiny piece of paper. "It's mine."

 

"But it's just Jaejoong's name?" Yunho says.

 

Yoochun's shoulders slump in defeat.

 

Jaejoong freezes in his seat.

 

"Oh," Yunho says cheerfully, flicking the post-it at the table, "were you trying to leave him a note?"

 

"...yes, that's it. That's what I was doing," Yoochun says, not looking at anyone.

 

Jaejoong is staring at his styrofoam container with such intensity he's surprised it hasn't caught fire.

 

Fuck.

 

"I'm gonna skip dinner," he mumbles and shuffles back to his room, head spinning.

 

He opens the door, then tries to decide which bed is less of a tragedy, but one's wet and sticky and the other is just sticky, so he lays himself out flat on the floor between the two, stomach knotting.

 

He waits for five minutes, ten, fifteen, and then Yoochun finally shuffles in, red-faced and awkward.

 

Jaejoong covers his face with an arm, unable to look at him.

 

"We have to burn the beds," Yoochun says but all the confidence is gone and Jaejoong's anxiety level is at a dangerous level.

 

"What else is on the list," he asks because he just has to.

 

Yoochun plops down on the floor by his feet. "I'm sorry."

 

Jaejoong peeks over his elbow. "What else?"

 

Yoochun flinches.

 

Anxiety gives way to a stupid pleasant feeling. "Want me to help you write the rest of it?"

 

Yoochun looks up, eyes wide.

 

"You can add sex with me after a bad haircut," Jaejoong suggests, sitting up and fixing his gaze on Yoochun's face.

 

Yoochun stares for a while, a myriad of emotions rushing across his face. "Maybe it'll be a great haircut."

 

"Sex with me after a _great_ haircut."

 

Yoochun's lips quirk up. "Setting a new personal record should be on the list, too."

 

"With _me_ ," Jaejoong says, then adds generously, "three times won't kill us."

 

"It might kill us," Yoochun points out and Jaejoong's body begrudgingly agrees.

 

But he shifts on the floor and grins boyishly and says, "Good thing you've already finished your list, then."

 

Yoochun gives him a look, one long dark curl cascading down his face. "We can start on yours."

 

"Well." Jaejoong's heart flattens against his ribcage. "I wanna go skydiving first."

 

"No, you don't."

 

Jaejoong laughs softly and stretches across the floor and buries his hands in Yoochun's hair. "I want to go backpacking through Tasmania."

 

Yoochun touches his forehead to Jaejoong's. "You don't know where that is."

 

"I want you."

 

Yoochun freezes.

 

"Well," he says eventually with a slow, casual shrug. "I can't really say no after you helped me out and all."

 

Jaejoong nods vigorously, practically climbing into Yoochun's lap. "Too bad we're out of beds."

 

Yoochun grins, eyes bright, and tugs Jaejoong's shirt over his head. "We can borrow Changmin's or Junsu's or Yunho's."

 

Later, when they get caught, and Changmin is raging and wielding CDs like shurikens, Jaejoong dips under Yoochun and mouths into his skin, "One down."

 

Yoochun deflects a flock of flying CDs with a blanket, feet tangled with Jaejoong's. "A thousand to go."


End file.
